


A Sense of Loss

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - General [25]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Memory Charms, forgotten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newlyweds Sherlock and John find themselves at a loss. They can't explain why, but it feels like they've both forgotten something very important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense of Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble takes place in September, 2016. Immediately after the drabble set ["Bloody Hell, I Need Tea"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488152/chapters/851501). But if you’re too lazy to read it… basically John and Sherlock’s memories during the period of June 30th (their wedding was on the 27th) to August 31st were altered using a special memory charm by their youngest son from the future. (Accidental time travel due to a miscast spell). He returned to his own time on September 1st, from the Hogwarts Express.

  
It was the first week of September. They’d been married a few days past two months now. Actively taking cases again since July 28th. But things still felt a little… off. John thought about the past few months, and it felt as if he were looking back through a haze.  
     “John?”  
     He blinked and shook his head, swallowing the bit of ham still in his mouth. “Yeah?” he asked, looking up and taking another bite. Sherlock sat across from him, neck bent just a little as he looked over the paper in his hands.  
     “Vague expression. Unfocused gaze and slow, unconscious chewing. You only swallow when you remember you’ve even had a bite at all.”  
     “Stop deducing me while I’m eating,” John replied, shifting in his seat.  
     “Apologies. I’d forgotten the effect it has on you,” his husband replied. “Does not change the fact you feel as if you’ve forgotten something. Something important.”  
     John didn’t reply. Instead, he continued to eat his meal of left-overs, idly wondering why there was so much in the fridge for just the two of them.  
     Sherlock’s ashen eyes glanced up from the paper, catching hold of John’s blues briefly. “I’m experiencing the same sense of unaccountable loss.”  
     “You? Really? I thought you remembered everything. Computer for a brain.” John’s forehead creased as he frowned. If Sherlock, of all people couldn’t remember things (or rather, could not remember something and not be able to explain why he cannot remember) then something was most decidedly wrong. “If we can’t remember what we forgot, how can we know that we’ve forgotten something?”  
     Sherlock was quiet again, eyes moving back to look over the paper in his hands. “John?” he said after a while when John’s plate was clear of food. His knife and fork crossed over one another on top, and the man himself sitting, staring almost vacantly at the stack of books to his left. “John?” he tried again, never looking up from the newspaper. He’d given up reading it, not finding anything of use. But it was a sort of sounding board for his thoughts. He could stare at it as he poked around in his mind palace, attempting to find the holes in his memory that he knew were there… but were so difficult to identify.  
     “Yeah?” came John’s voice from across the table, and he shook his head. Drawing in a deep breath, and releasing it slowly. “Well, bed for me then. It’s been a hell of a day and I’m bone tired.” When Sherlock finally set the paper down and looked at his husband again, it was as if John had shaken off whatever melancholy had settled upon him. A crooked grin on his face as he brushed the crumbs of a piece of toast from his striped jumper. “You coming?”  
     “I’ll be along shortly,” he replied, giving a dismissive wave.  
     John nodded, then pushed back from the table to rise. “Don’t take too long.”  
     “Of course, of course.” Sherlock listened as he took his empty plate to the kitchen, leaving it in the sink for the morning.  
     “You want me to fix you some milk?”  
     It was Sherlock’s turn to smile now as he pushed back from the table, his own sense of worry forgotten. “What happened to _bone tired_?”  
     “Well… I suppose I could go for a tumble before bed. If you think you could keep up.” John laughed as he poured a tall glass of milk, leaving it on the table before going back to their bedroom.  
     Ashen eyes strayed momentarily back to the paper, to the moving pictures on the front page. The Hogwarts express across a box in a side column, just below a small heading about a mysterious phantom child that had apparently gotten onto the train but had dissapeared enroute to Hogsmeade.  
     “Sherlock!”  
     He turned out the desk lamp nearby, plunging the livingroom into darkness that was pierced only by the light from the kitchen. Shortly after he took his potion, drank his milk, and was stripping on his way to the bedroom. “Patience is a virtue, doctor,” he said, closing the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock drinks milk with his potions. Then they do sex.


End file.
